


Shards

by mangacrack



Series: Insane!Maglor Verse [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Beleriand, Character Study, First Age, Gen, Growing Up, Music, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Valinor, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-23 14:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17685380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangacrack/pseuds/mangacrack
Summary: Beyond the song that came beforeBefore the song that's still to comeA stillness comes, a stillness comesThere's still, still more to come.





	1. Finwë - "Still"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Collection of stuff that doesn't fit anywhere else, but is too short or fragmented to make a story out of it.

 

The morning is quiet. Outside Manwë just stopped pouring rivers from the sky. Through the door and across the garden the world seem silent. For once, they had retreated to a secluded part outside of Tirion into a simple house. It didn't even had a second floor and the lack of noise digs into his soul, making the stillness around him seem like a roar on its own.

Finwë slips out of bed, unable to go enjoy another moment in it. It feels like as if he's been laying awake for hours already. The grey clouds swallow the gardens, the sky and the light of the Two Trees. Yet it could have not more than a few minutes.

As his naked feet touch the floor, Finwë winces. It's cold and he's not used to the lack of a soft carpet anymore.

He throws a glance to his sleeping wife. Indis hasn't moved yet and he doubts she will stir anytime soon. Exhausting weeks lay behind them, they fled the city for a reason.

Despite the urge to wash his face, comb his tangled hair or drink fresh water, his first way is towards the other side of the room. To great is the pull of the wooden crib. The design looks cheap, too simple for the child it's housing. Yet, for the small house they currently living in, it fits just right. Just like the other times before Finwë carved it himself as first gift for his child. Each sibling has one, though they have long fallen to dust by now.

One of his fingers runs of the surface and his mind checks for irregularities and possible splinters.

His hand comes back clean. It's too early his child to pull itself up yet and they will be in Tirion again by the time the little one will be able to climb out on its own, but it can never hurt to be careful.

"Good Morning," Finwë whispers as he bows over the crib. The words are little more than a sigh, flying through the air like a feather in the cold wind. "I see you are still asleep as well."

Finwë hesitates to reach inside and pick up the newborn. He tells himself that he fears waking his wife, yet it's cowardice that stops him. His hands are big and the infant so incredible fragile. It would so easy to hurt it, to break its fragile limbs. Instead he reaches out and brushes over the soft cheek. It's warm. Strange, given how cold shivers are running down Finwë's own back.

Not knowing what to with himself, he slips through the door and makes himself a cup of tea. It takes a while. He's unused to do it himself and he burns himself in the process when the hot water hits his skin. Muttering a small curse, Finwë heads back inside the bedroom. Though there's a corner with armchairs and comfortable armchairs, he figures it's expected that he goes back to wife and child.

The body in the great bed hasn't moved yet, so Finwë remains near his offspring. He takes a sip from his steaming cup and rests while leaning against the wall while keeping an eye on the snoring infant.

Since they are away from the palace, the silence is drowning. There are no servants slipping in and out of the rooms, no cleaning staff doing their rounds and no construction workers hammering in the distance.

Minutes pass like hours and with each second Finwë wavers beneath the weight of his guilt. It's been weeks and he still waits for the wave of joy and euphoria he's supposed to feel.

Finwë sighs and puts his tea away. An entire realm congratulated him and he is the only soul that honestly doesn't know what to do with this child. It's not as if he doesn't like children, but he cannot understand their world view either. Nor he seems to be able to comprehend their needs, their wish to grow and be independent.

In part he thinks it's due to what happened with his first. Yet the truth is Curufinwë had always been closer to his mother. From the very start he clung to her, sought her out for warmth, food and love. Did it start in the womb already and his first wife died, because Finwë did not know how to part with his strength? Had he killed Míriel, because she had to provide for her son alone?

Finwë makes an expression that is caught between boredom and disgust.

Perhaps the fault lies in the fact that he was never a child himself. He woke up beneath the stars, grown and full of curiosity. The world interested him, in it's shapes and forms. He hungers to learn about it, he loves the tales the gods teach him. In their presence he feels light. Enthusiastic in a way he never manages anywhere else.

Children don't interest him. They are small and helpless. On the journey he could not rely on them to aid the group, instead they were dependents he had to feed. Their mother's could not fight while pregnant, needed more food for years and in the end it takes decades before a child is able to pull it's own weight. Before it can contribute to the group and give back the resources it claimed.

It's a harsh way of thinking, but it was the only way to survive.

It had been true for the journey, it was still true in Valinor.

When Finwë finally hears Indis stirring, he straightens his back and puts the tea away to greet her. Before he joins her for a few more hours in the bed, he turns towards his sleeping son one more time.

 _Grow up, Nolofinwë,_ he sends to his child. _You are no use to me like this._

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As response to the recent conclusion of "The World breaks Everyone" I slipped into Finwë's headspace again.


	2. Ecthelion - "Doing Alright"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday my life was in ruin  
> Now today I know what I'm doing  
>   
> Queen - Doing All Right

It is one of the lost and forgotten history facts that Ecthelion is one of Canafinwë's first students. In hindsight, Ecthelion sometimes muses why they never became friends despite their friendly interactions. In the end, he blames the Noldorin society and its rules at the time. As prince and as a son of a minor Lord there are rules that they had to follow. 

  
  


  
  


"You did good." 

These are the first words Maglor Fëanorian says to him. It is right after an important performance and Ecthlion is sitting on a bench, fretting and worrying over and over again what would have been roughly ten minutes of displaying his skill in front of a small jury. 

"I am surprised you think so," is Ecethlion's sarcastic response. Despite his anxiousness, he cannot hold back the sharp words. He is aware of his mistakes. The piece he was supposed to play had little in common with what he presented the teachers. "My tutor will have my head when he finds me later."

Ecthelion is too distracted by the lecture he is going to face later this day to pay attention, when the tall Elf sits down next to him. He is clearly a musician and while Ecthelion did not see him among the sombre faces at the bottom of the stage that will decide his future in a few hours, his eyes are sharp enough to guess the strangers skill. He has a certain air about him, a presence that resembles the few true Bards Ecthelion had the pleasure of hearing. 

"I never said that your piece resembles that what was written on your sheets," the stranger intervenes. "Instead you brought life to a otherwise very boring set. While there will be criticism, I would beg you not to listen to it. Do not let old snobbish people ruin your fun." 

Ecthelion stumbles over the words. He looks at the stranger with wide eyes and the older Elf grins back. 

"Fun...?" 

This is the first time anyone tells him that playing an instrument is supposed to be fun. According to his teacher, learning an instrument is about self-discipline, the sharpening of the mind, about acknowledging the history of their people and thousand other things more that Ecethlion struggles with every day. 

"Of course," the Elf insists. "You have the rare talent to play whatever comes to your mind. I could put you on the stage of the Royal Theatre with nothing more than your flute, a theme and a time limit and you would make something incredible out of it. Thousands would come to hear you play, regardless if you practised beforehand or not." 

Ecthelion lets out a horrified squeak. He has visited the Royal Theatre before and while the entire ordeal today is about gaining an seat in the junior orchestra, he  _hopes_ he gets to bring back disappointing news to his father. The thought of having to play in front of so many people, trapped in the strict rules of sheets, diatonic scales and a conductor towering in front of him makes him want to hurl in the vibrant rose bushes. 

His fear must be written all over his face, because the Elf laughs. Somehow it is kind instead of condemning. 

"Have no fear, little one. I will make sure you find your path, it would a tragedy if we lose your creations to old men with prejudges." 

  
  


  
  


Later, when he is a Lord in Gondolin Ecthelion often thinks about what happened next. In less than half a year Canafinwë Fëanárion transformed his understanding of music with bi-weekly lessons. It did not matter that the Academy rejected him on the grounds of technical mistakes. With the second son of Fëanáro,  _the_ most famous Bard that is able to fill every seat of the Royal Theatre with nothing more than the sound of his voice, no second guesses his quirks anymore. 

Instead they praise Ecthelion about making  _true_ music. That he channels up the Song with his flute. That he steps into its currents every time he picks up his instrument. 

Though Ecthelion wishes he could put into words what exactly Maglor taught him in those few weeks. 

"Never listen when they call you a failure for straying from the sheets. The sheets are  _a lie._ They are nothing more than a system a few people agreed on using in order to pass on their work," the prince tells him once. "It does not dimmish your talent, not when I have seen you perform plays that should be way beyond your age." 

Then the prince teaches Ecthelion how to perform a play twice, develops a system that allows him to remember longer, more complicated pieces without transforming them into endless black dots on straight lines. 

It is great and exciting. It is a relief and over the matter of a few weeks, the opinion of his family ceases to matter. Ecthelion finds his confidence, people who share his passion and he is proud when he outclasses his former teacher a few years later. 

  
  


  
  


His greatest regret, Ecthelion finds out later, is the fact that he knows what it feels to play alongside with Maglor. The experience outshines every duet, every joined performance. 

In the end, he follows Turukáno to Gondolin, because Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower is the only person who comes close to replacing the prince. 

  
  


"Did you love him?" Glorfindel asks him, centuries later. 

It is a lovely evening and they just put away their instruments. They often meet to play together. It matters little who listens to them, what theme they follow. If it's the same as yesterday or a new one. They are like children building sandcastles on a beach. They never tire of it. 

Ecthelion considers the question. It sounds bold, not just because of King Turgon's policies. 

The final answer is easy. 

"Of course," he says. "It is impossible not to love him." 

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ecthelion, in my eyes, fits into the category of a neutral character. Normal, nothing over dramatic, someone who can be proud of their achievements. I think, he is one of the few people who actually considered his options and made a desicion instead of being driven by unresolved emotional issues. That being said, he is also the odd character out, he falls a little outside of the usual range of people that are connected to Maglor.


End file.
